


Making Me Cold In Your Bed

by Damalia (Achrya)



Series: A Pretty Rare Happiness [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Sex, Come Marking, Come Shot, Dark Marco Bott, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, Filthy, Kinda?, M/M, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, or just wolf things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:49:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5883421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Damalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean gets a little tipsy. Some random alpha is more than a little interested. Marco is a little annoyed and decides to remind Jean of who exactly he belongs to. More or less in public.</p><p>(Literally 8700  plus words about sorta subby omega Jean and possessive alpha Marco revolving around them having sex where people can hear them. Probably on purpose on Marco’s part.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Me Cold In Your Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo. Glitter and Dust offshoot. Why? Because idk, I was in a smutty mood. Set off in the future some time but not really because this won’t happen in the actual story. Probably...let’s call it a potential future. Also Marco is a teeny bit...uh. And Jean’s sorta...Uhhhhhh. *points at warnings*
> 
> Warnings: Biting, dominance displays, semi-public sex acts, alcohol, wolf/pack dynamics, D/s elements,  ABO, anal sex, rough sex, cum shots, some not very nice references to omegas/beta females as property. And such. Marco goes full tilt angry possessive alpha. Jean is increasingly conflicted/guilty about how into that he is.

 

Jean liked the Underground, kind of. It wasn't a nice place or anything but something about the way some long forgotten wolves had carved an entire city from the walls of a canyon fascinated him. The carefully dug out and supported halls and rooms, the sloping paths, stairs carved into the stone, and twisting passages, the ladders that seemed to appear from nowhere and reached down through the levels, the clay buildings that had been built whenever the walls were flat and even enough to support it and seemed to blend seamlessly into the stone...it was amazing.

There was a near constant claustrophobic feeling that got worse the deeper he went; the knowledge that tons of rock was above him literally hung over his head at all times. It was always dark, with the only outside light trickling in through the narrow cave entrances and the thin slats that functioned as windows of sorts, and everything was covered in dark red and orange clay and dusted with a thin sheen of sparkling dust.

It was so different from the lands the Sina pack lived on but he got the hang of navigating it fast enough. He enjoyed exploring the market and meeting areas when he had the time, found there was always something he'd somehow missed the time before.

The only downside was that western wolves were traditionalist assholes. They were superstitious for starters and Jean didn't have much patience for Old Wolves' Tales about wolf and humans gods or magic. Then there was that they didn't let their unmarked omegas and female betas walk around without escorts, considering it tantamount to walking around nude or 'asking for trouble' (and Jean had a lot of opinions on all of that but Mike had strictly forbidden him from sharing them least he offend the wrong person and mess up Erwin's plans) or meant they were fair game for any alpha or male beta strong enough to hold them down to take claim over.

He'd thought the, often unenforced, rules of his own pack were stifling but in the Underground they added a whole different level to the closed in feeling.

It might have been bearable to just have someone go with him everywhere he went but between representing the pack to the various clan and family heads in the Underground to plead the case for them to join the Eastern Alliance, helping Krista and Ymir with the orphaned pups, and playing assistant to Marco as he tried to get to the root of the sickness that had taken hold in the lower levels he was sort of burned out on people.

If he wanted to wander around unmolested he had to appear taken and that was about the point the Underground lost it's shine.

It had been about a month of letting Marco bite him just about every other day to keep the mark from fading and letting the alpha rub his scent into his skin. Even when Marco was nowhere in sight he could feel the alpha's touch, his teeth and mouth, smell his burnt sugar scent clinging to him. It was driving him insane.

If he'd been given a choice he would have opted to let Mike pretend to be his alpha but the blond had some errand he was running for Erwin that kept him away for days at a time, far too long to keep up with the shallow bond. He'd even suggested Greger and Nanaba, it wasn't completely unheard of for a beta couple to have a third, but the idea had been shot down.

He was stuck with Marco.

He knew his resistance to the arrangement confused everyone else, save Marco. It seemed everyone knew they'd been fucking before this little expedition and since he hadn't gone around telling people that Marco was actually a vicious liar who didn't even have the fucking grace to be apologetic about lying they didn't see the problem.

It wasn't like it was a real bond or anything, Nanaba had pointed out, and it probably wasn't going to involve anything they hadn't done before.

They didn't understand that every time he and Marco stepped into the room they were sharing or he was pulled aside so he could be bitten and rutted against it wore down his resolve a little bit. It wasn't a real claim because it was one sided, which was why the mark faded and had to be redone, but he still felt all the effects of a bond since that one side was his side.

The pull to Marco, the sudden waves of want that felt like they were cracking his bones apart because he refused to give in, the dizzy feeling when Marco's scent was close, the desire to show his neck and belly and submit for his alpha. It was a bunch of shit Jean wanted no part in.

It was a shit deal. Even Armin, who was sort of an expert on shit deals, would have agreed that it was pretty fucking awful if he weren't so busy having babies and trying to subvert pack law back home. 

Jean supposed he had that in his favor at least. Wanting to fuck Marco constantly wasn't so bad in comparison to Armin’s issues. It wasn't even  _ new. _ He'd spent more time than he should have letting himself be pressed against trees, into the dirt, and down onto the floor of his cabin in the pursuit of trying to see if he could screw away the burn the alpha caused in him.

He couldn't. Something about Marco had started burrowing under his skin the first time they'd met, or maybe the first time he'd found himself curled up around that stupid coat and falling asleep, or maybe it had just been slowly and surely every time they talked and Jean had found himself smiling and laughing, stupidly happy as he fell for someone who seemed smart, funny, and caring.

Either way there was no amount of indulgence that sated the ache of wanting.

Unfortunately.

But he could drown it in alcohol until it was more tolerable.

He'd found a dusty building on one of the flats about ¾ of the way down the right canyon wall where they traded home brew that tasted like kerosene for bread and meat two weeks into their stay. It burned on the way down, burned in his stomach, and made his eyes water and ears ring but it also let him slink back to the room they were sharing at the orphanage without feeling like he needed to crawl into the alpha's skin so he could breathe freely.

Or have Marco crawl into him.

Mostly that one.

Six weeks into their mission Ymir and Krista decided to come along as well. They were all tired and in need of some time to decompress after the latest report from further west but Mike needed to talk with Nanaba and Greger and Marco had patients he needed to tend to still. They drank and talked and Jean mostly drank and didn't think about Marco.

He needed it. His heat was coming and he didn’t know what to do about it but he was rapidly running out of time to think of something. He was already in pre-heat, which meant eating a ton, his senses turning themselves up nearly to the levels they were when he was shifted, and the very persistent push of the animal part of himself as it tried to take over. 

That part wanted to be building a nest and scent marking his territory (because even the wolf part was a shitty omega and liked doing traditionally alpha things) and sizing up it’s partner. 

He’d spent his last heat with Marco and it had been mind blowing, and also required about four days of constant sleep to recover from, and his body was ready to give that another go around. Wanted it so badly that he knew he was putting out all the signals whenever Marco was close, unable to help himself. 

It was going to be a problem. He could hole up and spend it alone but being alone after being with someone was going to be horrendous. He could find someone else but he was supposed to be Marco’s mate and if it got around that he’d been with someone else for his heat it would screw everything up. He could spend it with Marco but that was just falling headlong back into what he was trying to avoid. 

He didn’t have an answer and alcohol didn’t provide any but it helped him not think about it. 

A few hours, and a few drinks, in another alpha, probably not too much older than Jean but reeking of confidence and pride like a young wolf who'd never been challenged, with a ready smile, tan skin, and dirty blond hair sat down on the bench next to him. He was trailing a scent like burnt meat and grease and a lot of alcohol. It wasn't a big place and there were only four long rickety tables, the others of which were full of loud drunk wolves, to speak of so he didn't think much of it until he felt a knee nudge his own.

He blinked then looked down; he wasn't sure if he was just really drunk or just really confused or both but he couldn't quite process that someone was touching him. The man shifted and then a firm thigh was pressed against his own and he was tilting his head to look into dark blue eyes.

“Out without your mate?”

“I'm marked.” Jean mumbled at the table. 

He knew it was visible, the deep impression of teeth in his skin, the dark purplish bruising that never got a chance to heal before Marco's mouth was back on him, right below his ear. He knew Marco had picked that spot because it was so close to the spot behind Jean's ear that never failed to make his vision darken and breath stutter when Marco mouth found it.

Marco played dirty and was guiltless while he did do. He wanted Jean, didn't bother trying to hide it at all, and occasionally licking or nipping when he shouldn't wasn't something he was above.

He also knew he still sort of smelled like Marco. It had been two days since the last time he'd let the alpha touch him and scent faded before the mark did but he felt like it was still there, sunken so deep into his skin he might never be free.

He could smell it and taste it on the back of his tongue in spite of his attempts to burn it away with alcohol.

“I won't tell them if you won't.” The alpha leaned closer, voice dropping an octave to become a purr. “And it's been awhile since they touched you hasn't it? I can barely smell them on you. It's not right leaving a pretty thing like you-”

Jean snorted because he might have been a lot of things but pretty wasn't one of them. Armin and Krista were pretty and even Connie had a certain kind of cute thing going for him but Jean was, as far as omegas went, a failure. Too thin, too sharp, all hard angles and muscle with none of the softness he was supposed to have.

Ugh. He must have been really drunk if he was starting to feel sorry for himself again.

The alpha tsked and looked so sad Jean was tempted to reach out and pat him comfortingly. “You don't believe me? Never heard that before? That's a shame don't you think?” The leg against his own pressed closer. Jean could feel the warmth radiating for him, pleasantly warm in the way that only alphas were. It was tempting in it's own way but it wasn't the simmering heat Jean was used to. Waking up wrapped up in Marco was like waking up realizing you'd ended up almost too close to the fire. 

But never actually too close.

Omegas were prone to being cold, Jean more so than others, so he'd never minded Marco's warmth that much.

Jean frowned, thoughts trailing back to Marco as they tended to do. He could feel phantom hands on his skin, palms rough but grip achingly careful even when the sex was edged with pain, taste salt and skin, and hear the softly accented voice in his ear.

_ You feel so good. _

_ I've got you darlin'. Let me take care of you. _

_ You're being so good for me Jean, so good. _

The memories brought liquid heat to his stomach, a fire in contrast to the hazy warmth the alcohol brought, and then lower. He wanted to shake it off, push it away, but a large hand touched his knee, squeezed, and he let out a surprised breath.

Even with the alcohol swimming in his system Jean knew the guy was either stupidly bold or after a fight. Talking up a marked omega, touching one like he was doing, was asking for trouble. Especially in a place like the Underground where disputes were settled with teeth and blood.

Jean kind of liked bold. Marco pretended to be a sweet wide eyed 'who me?' kind of person to charm mothers but Jean knew that when he wanted to he was the sort of wolf who shoved someone against a counter and swallowed them down while their mother sat two rooms away.

Jean had a small amount of personal experience in that area.

He looked down at the hand on his knee, considered the long thick fingers. A part of him that he'd been doing his best to ignore protested, insisted that this alpha was wrong and had no right to be touching him. 

And then there was the very logical part of his brain reminding him that there was a reason he was pretending to be Marco’s mate and that the traditionalists he was trying to win to Erwin’s cause would be even less inclined to deal with him if it go around that he was unfaithful to his mate. 

He’d only just gotten some of the pack heads to take him seriously and not ask, in those casually coy tones he loathed, if the Sina Pack head had really sent a seemingly barren omega (because not having pups at his age must have meant there was something wrong with him) to handle alliance negotiations. 

Jean was well aware he had been the second choice, after Armin, but he intended to show everyone that he was the best person for it. 

He couldn't afford to mess up. 

But maybe he could look a little. 

“Don't do it.” Ymir said as she sat back down across from them and pushed another mug of frothing liquid in front of him. Krista was still at the bar, leaning over the counter to shout something at the woman who was pouring the drinks. Jean turned to look at her, feeling as if his head was trying to roll free from his neck, and saw her wearing a smile that didn't meet her eyes. “Trust me when I say you're going to want to move your hand. His alpha won't take kindly to that.”

Jean nodded then, feeling he should explain better, leaned closer to the man. They ended up shoulder to shoulder and, judging that close enough, Jean dropped his voice to a whisper. “He's, you know, a little scary sometimes.”

Sort of. Jean wasn't afraid of Marco, personally, but he was occasionally scared for other people because of Marco and that was...something. He had a better idea of what exactly his problem with that was when he hadn't had so many drinks but at the moment the part of him that craved Marco insisted traitorously that it wasn't a problem at all. Marco was strong, could care for him and fill him with strong pups and

Jean took another drink.

It was going to be a long night.

The alpha smiled at him, all teeth and long shadows over his face. “I don't scare easy.”

Ymir snorted but when Jean looked at her she was stonefaced. He wondered briefly if she'd do more than try to warn the alpha off but quickly decided that, unless it looked like he was going to hurt Jean, she wouldn't. He wasn't sure if she knew he and Marco weren't really mated or not, he hadn't seen fit to keep up with who knew what, but it wasn't her place to keep him from making potentially bad decisions.

She had her own mate to attend to and warning someone off when they weren't pack, were barely friends, was more than she had to do.

Ymir's eyes flickered to the side then she raised a single eyebrow pointedly. Jean twisted around just in time to see Marco standing just inside of the beaded curtain that served as a door.

He felt it like a shock up his spine when Marco's eye fell on their table. The change in the brunette was instant; he went from wearing a lazy grin to a strangely flat curve of the lips with a hint of teeth that Jean couldn't in good conscious call a smile.

The alpha as his side turned too and the hand on his knee moved away but no other attempts to put space between them were made. “That him?”

Jean nodded and, with a laugh the alpha put his hand back, saying everything he needed to know about him without a word: this guy was an idiot.

If Jean was an outsider trying to decide how worried to be about Marco he would have landed somewhere between 'cautious' and 'really concerned'. Marco wasn't as big as Mike or anything but then who was, but he was densely muscled in all the right places and there was always a sort of dark gleam in his eyes.

When they'd first met Marco had told him that his mom thought he was getting wild and that was why he'd come to stay with the Yeagers. The part about being wild had been completely true. Everything else Marco had ever told him however...

There was also the scars to consider, long ugly strips of raised and twisted skin and jagged seams where flesh had been torn way, covering one side of his face and neck. Jean knew they went further down, a large starburst sort of pattern at first glance, but was really the product of many smaller wounds blending together, that covered part of his chest, back, and shoulder and twisted down to touch his hip.

His other eye was covered by his hair at the moment, eye patch left behind for some reason, but Jean knew that it was partially dead (an improvement according to Marco who insisted that it had once been completely dead.) and that under the milky yellow film that covered the entire surface the iris was too big, too perfectly round, and a strange brown like dried blood. The color sort of leaked out into the parts that should be white like creeping vines.

A wolf didn't get hurt like Marco had, didn't wear scars like his, without having fought to live. They marked him as strong; maybe not strong enough to have won that fight but strong enough to survive when other, lesser, wolves wouldn’t have. Marco had gotten up when he should have died and the proof of that stubbornness was on his skin. It also should have been a sign that he had a ton of shit knocked loose in his head because wounds like that didn't happen without affecting a person on the inside.

Jean hadn't understood that before he'd been in too deep to have much hope of getting away from Marco's gravity but he did now. He was on his feet, warmth of the man at his side forgotten as something icy gripped his heart, by the time Marco reached the table.

“Don't-”

Whatever else he was going to say was lost as the world blurred around him and he hit the tabletop hard enough to drive all the air out of his lungs. Tingling pain crept over his upper body and where Marco's hand had gripped his arm in order to flip him around.

The noise of the bar seemed to be sucked out of the air all at once, leaving only the sound of breathing and the impression of surprise behind. Jean tried to angle himself back up but a hand, Marco's hand, curled around the back of his neck and pressed just so and Jean snarled angrily even as his body started to go limp, submitting even if his brain was against the idea.

It was an asshole move to grab him and force submission like that and Jean's face burned with humiliation. Scruffing was something parents did to unruly pups for the most part but it also wasn't something omegas grew out of like betas and alphas did, much to Jean's irritation. Not that just anyone could grab his neck and get him to go ragdoll limp; no that was the half-bond and his body's willingness to curl up for Marco at work.

He could feel Marco behind him, furnace hot and tense like a rubber band pulled too tightly, and when he tried to pull air back into his body he could smell a mixture of fury and arousal curling through Marco's scent.

Something in him shook loose and shattered. He found himself choking on the need to drop down to his knees and apologize so, he figured, it must have been his pride. He tended to lose track of it when Marco got involved in things-

_ Get on your knees for me Sweetheart, don't touch, stay quiet, beg for it, show me how much you want it... _

_ - _ and being forced down with Marco's hand on his neck was just muddying things more. He was still hot, still a little turned on and it just blended with the flush of embarrassment and anger creeping over him. It wasn't a wholly unfamiliar feeling, arousal dotted with shame and rage, warring between trying to claw out Marco's other eye and drop down and open-

He saw Ymir move out of the corner of his eye, just a small jerk of her body and a tightening around her eyes, but then she went perfectly still. She wouldn't do anything that would put herself, or Krista, in the path of danger and if that meant sitting by and watching whatever happened that's what she would do.

“Marco-”

“I think you're done talking.” He didn't say it unkindly or with any trace of anger but it still chilled Jean to the core. “You're touching what doesn't belong to you.”

That was directed at the other alpha. Jean could imagine Marco, somehow managing to reflect nothing but disarming boyish charm even with his hand firmly on the back of someone he'd bent over a table, even with those scars, even with that dark hungry flicker in his good eye.

“Doesn't smell like he belongs to you.” The other alpha was still smiling but there was a new layer of eagerness to it. Stupid drunk alpha hoping for a fight and then a fuck; he had the same notes of anger and want that Marco did clinging to him. Jean couldn't quite process that idea that someone other than Marco was not just interested in him but interested enough to pick a fight. “Doesn't seem like you've been taking care of him.”

Marco's fingers curved tighter around his neck, no doubt reflecting on how Jean had stubbornly refused to be scent marked that morning even when the alpha had pointed out that it smelled like Jean was going untouched, but his voice kept the same cheerful lilt. “That's not for you to worry about.”

“If he was mine-”

“He's not.” Marco cut in, a flat edge Jean had never heard before to his voice. Marco was angry.

Jean wanted to fix it. Needed to fix it. Couldn't stand to have his alpha angry, needed to-

He needed to breathe.

Jean felt alarmingly sober, or at least sober enough to know that this was going to end badly, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind “I'm pretty sure he eats people!”

Okay, scratch that, he was still pretty drunk but that was fine, he could make that work.

The other alpha blinked then looked down at him, eyes widening just slightly; there was a real fear of cannibal wolves in the Underground, feral wolves who lost that part of themselves that kept them from being vicious animals willing to destroy and consume their own.

He was mostly positive that Marco didn't really eat other wolves, or humans.

Marco laughed dryly. “I promise you're the only person I've eaten recently.”

Jean shouldn't have found that as hot as he did, especially since it was messing up his half-formed plan, and yet the liquid heat that built up and threatened to bubble over whenever Marco was this close was there anyway. They were about one stupid comment from an alpha clash that no one would stop because that was just how they did things in the Underground, he was being held down and scruffed like a naughty child, and he was half hard and could feel slick sliding down the crack of his ass.

Fantastic.

Jean's huffed in annoyance that was aimed more at himself than anything else. He needed Marco to let him up and normally he'd just go about it with fists and claws but he knew instinctively that challenging 'his alpha' as this point would just make things worse. It would make Marco look weak, like he wasn't in control, and control was everything down here. Alphas controlled their mates, controlled their families, controlled their territory and if they couldn't they'd lose it all to someone who could.

In the Underground you held on to what you had and took what you wanted however you could.

Jean wasn't looking to be won, by anyone, and didn't have the patience for all the stupid posturing crap. They needed to just get the hell out and then, away from prying eyes, he would make sure that Marco remembered that he didn't belong to him.

“Marco let's justFuck!”

The hand on his neck moved to grip his hair and yank his head back. He shouted and swung an arm out on reflex, even going up onto his toes as if that would help him escape the wrenching pain. It didn't last long, a few seconds at most, and if he was being honest it didn't hurt that much. He'd been pushed and pulled harder, though that was always in the course of sex, and this wasn't.

Or he didn't think it was.

It might have been.

It was hard to think in general, the pain in his scalp and neck blurring and fading into an almost pleasing tingle along his skin.

No, he and Marco weren't having sex anymore so it couldn't have been a sex thing.

“Quiet.” That was definitely Marco's sex voice and not even the normal sex voice, but the one that was deeper and rough, full of alpha command, that struck a cord deep in Jean that he sort of hated after the fact. It promised wonderfulterrible things, that knife's edge of pain he sometimes wanted when Marco's hands were on him, and it was not okay to use it in public.

With his face back on the table and the hand back on his neck, holding firm in a clear warning to keep his mouth shut, he still wasn't entirely sure if it was a sex thing or not. His body seemed to think it was a sex thing more than ever or maybe he was just getting harder and wetter was in response to the deepening scent of arousal coming from Marco.

It bothered him, in a distant sort of way, that he wasn't sure which possibility bothered him more.

He reached up and wrapped a hand around Marco's wrist then stopped, unsure of what it was he'd wanted to do.

“He doesn't listen does he? Maybe you should let someone who knows how to keep an omega in line have a try if you aren't up to it.” There was the other alpha again. Jean considered, grip tightening on Marco's wrist, just being quiet and letting them come to blows.

Mike, and by proxy Erwin, probably wouldn't appreciate that much. Jean was actually supposed to be representing the pack out here, making them look good to make more allies, and he was pretty sure being bent over a table like this wasn't fulfilling that particularly duty.

Jean would have been willing to swear the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees as the hand in hair tightened. Marco moved again, ended up more behind Jean before, and he could feel the hard line of the alpha's erection against him.

He wondered, for one panicked moment, if this was going to end with Marco taking him over the table to prove how well he could be kept in line andand put back in his 'place'? Jean knew that it was just another way to show strength and control: making Jean submit in front of the challenger would make the point almost as well as a fight.

Could he go along with that without fighting back?

Was it worth keeping violence from breaking out?

Did he want to get fucked in front of four dozen or so other wolves?

The warm trickle of slick was starting to wet his pants and creep down his thigh so, yeah, maybe he would have been okay with that. The parts of him that wanted nothing more than to be mounted and bitten and used thrilled at the idea of his alpha staking a claim for all to see, hoped it would be hard and messy and at this rate everyone in the room would know just how okay with it he was.

He pressed his thighs together, groaning quietly, and shut his eyes.

All he'd wanted was to get drunk enough to pass out for the night.

“Jean,” Marco's voice dripped like warm honey and his hips rocked forward, letting Jean feel the entire length of his erection. Jean sighed. “You-”

“Hey!” Someone shouted. “Take it outside. You fuck on or break my table and you're building a new one.”

There was a tense pause where it seemed like everyone was holding their breath and then someone laughed. The heavy feeling in the air seemed to dissolve as chatter picked back up.

“Sorry. We'll be going.” Marco said. He sounded not just apologetic but sheepish as well. Jean, who was a terrible liar and had nearly confessed about his relationship with Marco to his mother at least a dozen times when it hadn't even been a topic of discussion just because he felt bad keeping secrets, couldn't keep from being amazed at how easily the other man slipped from one persona to the other.

Humans had a word for people like that. Armin probably knew it. Jean just thought of it as 'creepy and strange'.

He was hauled up and, after nearly tripping over the bench because his legs didn't want to obey him, 'guided' outside. The last thing he saw before being pushed out into the cool darkness of the night was Krista, elbow held by Ymir, watching after him with big worried eyes.

He wasn't sure why she was worried. As far as he could tell they were leaving the situation and that was a good thing. The other alpha would, hopefully, stay put and he and Marco would head up through the levels and hash it all out once they got back to their room.

He was probably going to end up under Marco, yes, but that wasn't 'worrying'. The alpha's scent with thick with agitation and want and something dark and rich that made Jean's mouth water.

He liked to be realistic about things and there wasn't any point in acting like sex wasn't where they were headed, Jean’s resolve to not sleep with Marco anymore be damned. It would be hard and angry, leave his throat raw from shouting, have them both bruised and battered, covered in scratches and bites.

His dick throbbed at the thought.

There was something wrong with him. Was 'slightly feral' contagious?

He hadn't started out drooling for Marco's dick or itching to held down and fucked so hard he'd be feeling it for days had he? No, he was pretty sure he’d just been in for a handjob and then somehow he’d ended up being willing to beg for it when Marco told him to and loving it. He didn't want that all the time, or most of the time even, but it was enough of the time that he couldn't pretend he didn't like it.

It was another reason he'd decided to stop sleeping with Marco; he was a omega but he'd never really thought of himself as submissive. If anything he had a wealth of ‘alpha’ traits, not the least of which was his tendency to dig in his heels and show his teeth when challenged. That was one of the things he did all wrong according to just about everyone he knew; he was meant to obey and give in without question but those weren't things that came naturally to Jean.

But Marco brought something out in him that sometimes scared the fuck out of him. Not that he was on the verge of becoming the demure and sweet ideal, not that Marco had ever seemed to want that from him, but he could give up control where he'd never been able to before. 

He didn’t feel the need to be so defensive when he was with Marco. 

They'd gone a few meters, Marco's hand still tight on his neck, when he was suddenly pushed to the side and into the space between the bar and the building next to it. It was darker down there though his eyes adjusted quickly; they were too far into the canyon for the starlight to make it past the all the structures that have been built into and along the rocky walls, and none of the faint light from inside the occupied buildings made it down the space they were in.

Not that there was much space to speak of; he was pressed against the wall and Marco slid in behind him, so close that Jean could feel every inch of him, solid, warm, and so familiar he found himself opening his legs to accommodate one of Marco's sliding between without thinking about it.

“Did you want me to fuck you in there?” Marco half-growled half-panted in his ear. “Is that what you've been wantin’ all this time Jean?”

He could feel Marco's erection pressed against him again; he pressed back to grind his ass against Marco's crotch and drank in the soft exhale against the back of his head before remembering that he was supposed to not be doing things like that.

This was such a terrible idea.

“We should,” Jean stopped to swallow, hoping to get some moisture back in his desert dry mouth. “Go back to the room.”

The walk would help him clear his mind, get his head on straight. He could get some distance, get Marco's scent out of his mouth and nose, and remember why it was he'd broken it off to begin with. He couldn't let instinct drag him back down because at the rate this was going-

“I can't decide if I want to fuck you here or go back and rip out your new friend's throat. Maybe both. Would you wait here if I went back inside?”

Right, there was the thing. How could he have let the fact Marco was occasionally psychotic slip his mind?

“What the fuck?” Jean sputtered, trying to shrink closer to the wall while simultaneously pushing Marco away from. He was horny but he would never be horny enough to ignore homicidal tendencies. ...at least not when they were being expressed right in front of him. About people who were still alive. “My...fuck, Marco, do you hear yourself?”

“Do you?” Marco had leverage and more room to move to his advantage. And he’d have no drinks verse Jean’s ‘a couple’. He just pressed forward, slightly bigger body crowding closer to Jean to keep him from wiggling away. “I hate when you push me away.” 

“That’s nice.” 

Marco’s tongue dragged over the shell of his ear as a hand slipped under his shirt. Warm fingers brushed over a nipple then pinched hard and twisted. The flash of pain pleasure went straight to his dick and made his knees shake. He swore loudly but Marco didn’t let up; his mouth stayed on his ear, sucking and biting lightly, while his fingers continued their cruel treatment, switching from one nipple to the other eventually. The sting just got worse when blood was able to rush back into his skin. 

He pressed against the thigh between his legs, seeking friction against his hard-on and moaning when he got it, shame thick in the back of his throat. Marco let go of the sensitive bud between his fingers; Jean sagged in relief as he pushed air out through his teeth.  

Marco smirked into his neck and Jean growled what anyone else would have taken as a warning that they had a very upset omega on their hands and might be about to lose their eye, something Marco really couldn't afford considering. Yet Marco nuzzled behind his ear and licked him as gently as he would if they were doing the post sex lazy touching and kissing thing, completely unconcerned that Jean was actually a decent sized wolf and wasn’t averse to fighting for, at times, no reason at all beyond being in a bad mood. 

That was pretty fair since the last thing he was going to do in this situation was shift; all his wolf instincts said he was supposed to be giving in because Marco felt, smelled, and acted perfect (the animal part of him didn't find throat ripping all that alarming. Depending on the circumstances it might even find it endearing.) and it was hard enough to keep that shit at bay in his human skin.

In his fur he might just drop down and present his ass.

He’d always thought there wasn’t much difference in him when he changed skins but, as it turned out, he lost his already battered moral compass in favor of trying to please Marco.

...not all that different when he thought about it that way.

“You know we have a problem right? You made it look like you aren't mine-”

“I'm not.” Jean spat. He knew neither of them believed it, not really, but he clung to the lie anyway.

“You are.” Marco sighed the words, sounding so much like he was disappointed in Jean that he wanted to roll his eyes“And now people will think I'm a bad alpha who can't keep his omega in under control or stop you from going around and spreading your legs behind my back. How am I supposed to get people to listen to anything I say if I can’t even keep one omega in line?”

Jean wanted to argue that he wasn't anyone's omega to ‘keep in line’ and that the stupid fake bond didn't mean anything and that anyone who ignore medical advice because of ‘domestic issues’ was a moron who probably deserved to die, but one of Marco's hands slide down his side, and he was distracted by the feeling of cool air over heated skin when his pants were unceremoniously dragged down. He felt the button pop and heard it hit the stone under their feet.

The leg wedged between his moved, letting his pants fall to pool at his feet, and then Marco was back, one hand at the small of his back and pushing him against the wall again. Without fabric to cover it his erection rested directly on the stone, rubbing over the rough surface.

“Wait. Marco, not here.” It sounded weak to his ears, an empty protest.

Yes here, yes now. The wolf in him was practically purring.

Marco chuckled. 

The hand on his back swept lower, parting his ass so fingers could sweep through the slick that was practically pouring out of him, body eager for he'd been denying it since they'd left their pack back east. He could smell it in the air, a thick curtain of sharply sweet musk hanging around them. 

“Look how wet you are.” Marco murmured. “Never seen you like this outside of your heat.”

Jean flushed then glanced towards the entrance of the small space they were in. Anyone walking by would be able to catch his scent, would know right away what what happening, and they weren't even close to far enough back to not be seen if someone looked.

He whined low in his throat at the thought of being seen.

“Did you get like this for your new friend?” A finger circled and rubbed against his entrance. He tensed in anticipation; Marco's finger continued it's teasing touch and made no move to push in even when Jean tried to coax him into it by pushing back against the alpha’s hand. “You want it that bad? Bad enough to let some other alpha fuck you?”

Jean didn’t say anything, half because he wasn’t in the mood to push anymore (would have prefered being pushed)  and half because he was pretty sure Marco knew there wasn’t much risk of him doing anything like that. He just wanted to hear him say it, to have Jean admit that it was Marco he wanted, and he wasn’t ready to do that. 

Marco waited then tsked in a way that said ‘Fine, be that way’ as his hands shifted from where they were; one closed around his hip in a grip that was just shy of painful. He was pulled back from the wall a step, legs forced further apart as Marco’s other leg found a place between them.

There was another brush over his entrance, the head of Marco’s cock, and he barely had a second to process before Marco’s hips snapped forward.

Jean howled, unable to care that he could probably be heard by the people in the bar, as his fingers scrambled over the wall and his toes curled in his boots. It burned. It was too much all at once, stretching him too wide, and he couldn’t even manage to breathe around it. 

Marco’s hips rolled forward greedily, fucking into him in short jerky thrusts, opening him up a little more and getting deeper with each pass. The hand on his hip curled tighter, nails digging into his skin.

It was good.  

The kind of good he tried not to think about when it wasn’t happening because there was an itch of guilty confusion that followed it. Some part delighted in feeling so full he thought he might split open, in the sparks of pain that came with being taken so roughly, even in the scrape of the stone wall and the rough feeling of Marco’s pants, still in place with only the front lacing undone to allow his cock out, on his skin.  

It was a heady mix, leaving him panting for air as his vision swam. The burn faded, rolling up with the pleasure licking at his spine with each push-pull inside of him.

He was sloppy wet, slick coating his thighs, and his erection hadn’t faded at all. He could take it, had done so before, held down or dropping into Marco’s lap when one or both weren’t in the mood for niceties. 

“You feel good.” Was gasped against his neck as Marco’s hand came up to rest on the wall near his head. “Tight.” 

“Fuck you.” He hissed back; it didn’t sound half as angry as he wanted it to. It was hard to sound really upset when he was straining to push back and meet Marco’s hips. 

Marco responded by thrusting so hard that Jean’s head smacked against the wall and then keeping that pace. It was a punishing rhythm, hard and deep, each rough drag of Marco’s dick inside of him helping to completely break him apart. He couldn’t do anything, couldn’t even think, mouth dropping open to let out needy whines. Marco’s breathing deepened and went ragged, fanning against the back of Jean’s neck, before he bent down to close his mouth over a patch of skin. He sucked viciously, a sharp bite of almost pain to blend with everything else. 

His heart pounded so hard in his ears that it nearly drowned out the sounds of skin slapping against skin. 

He let out a keening noise as Marco slammed into him, grinding mercilessly over the spot that made light burst on the back of Jean’s eyelids. A few more thrusts and Jean’s head fell forward slightly, everything tightening. A few more powerful thrusts and he was nearly there, teetering on the edge. He shifted, resting his weight on one hand, and reached down to grasp his neglected erection.

The hand on his hip darted forward and batted him away before taking his dick in hand. 

“Mine.” Marco growled in his ear. Jean pushed forward in an attempt to rut into the alpha’s unmoving hand. Marco squeezed, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough for his intention to be clear, and stopped moving. 

Jean could have cried. He squirmed, clenching around the throbbing cock inside of him and angling himself in an attempt to get it in deeper, but Marco held firm. He moaned his protest, words refusing to come. 

Another stroke, slow and almost teasing, with the slow drag of Marco’s thumb pressing over the head. A slow, achingly slow, push inside of him. 

“Mine.” 

Another thrust, a little harder but still not nearly enough. He was stuck, body tense and erection painful, just missing what he needed. 

“Jean.” A press of teeth into where he knew Marco’s mark already was. 

It clicked, the part of him that was animal and happy to submit to what it saw as it’s alpha surging up to let him know what he needed to do. The words fell from his lips easily, wet needy gasps, and he resolved to hate them both for it later. 

“Yours. Alphapleaseyoursplease!”

Teeth dug in hard and Jean’s eyes rolled in the back of his head. Everything went hazy, heat and pressure and that stuffed full feeling, and then too sharp as he came, spilling over Marco’s hand and the wall with a shout. He writhed and trembled, back arching almost painfully, and Marco stroked him through it as his hips ground in Jean with short rolling motions that kept the pressure right over his sweet spot. 

When he was spent he felt boneless and distant, like he was floating. Marco slipped out of him and he let out a soft mewl at the empty feeling but didn’t protest when he was guided to turn around and then pushed down onto his knees. He watched, unblinking, as Marco’s hand moved over his cock, purpling head oozing precum, and only barely had the presence of mind to turn his head slightly and shut his eyes when Marco grunted and nearly doubled over at the waist. 

His cum was thick and hot, landing in long sticky strings on Jean’s lips, cheek and neck. 

Marco leaned over him, breathing labored, eye bright and glittering with eerie flecks of green. 

“I like that on you.” 

Jean rolled his eyes but otherwise said nothing, too content and too tired for more biting comments. Marco smiled toothily then dropped down in front of him. He licked Jean’s face, laughing at Jean’s quiet ‘you’re disgusting.’, then trailed down to his neck.

It took time, more than it should have, for Jean to feel like he could move enough to let Marco drag him up, fix his clothes and then lead him back out of the alley. he didn't feel like walking, or doing much of anything that didn't involve curling up with Marco somewhere, but he could see where getting back to their room would help with that process. He let himself be held close, face practically buried in Marco's neck, but couldn't resist glancing back towards the bar. There were other wolves standing outside, looking in their direction. Marco's arm around his waist squeezed; when Jean looked at the other man there was a smug tilt to his lips.  

Of course. 

\---

Jean woke up twice that night. The first time he found himself reaching out for Marco and coming up empty. He frowned sleepily then, hearing a shuffling of clothing, opened his eyes and pushed himself up onto his elbows. Marco was by the entrance of the room yanking his pants back with one hand and pushing aside the curtain to peer out in the dimly lit hallway with the other.

“You're leaving?”

Marco looked up, eye widening for a moment and then he was smiling brightly. “Only for a minute. Been trying to get you back in my bed all this time, wouldn't leave any longer than I have to now that you're there.”

Jean snorted but laid back down without another word. He yanked the soft blanket further up his body, yawning, and sleep pulled him back under quickly.

The second time he woke up to the smell of soap, the feeling of Marco mouthing over his neck and oddly cool hands stroking over his ribs. He waved a hand in annoyance as teeth grazed sensitive skin but allowed himself to be rolled so he was flat on his back with Marco hovering over him, propped up by one hand. The other brushed over Jean's skin then crept lower to wrap around his cock.

Jean grumbled unhappily at the sudden chill from Marco's hands but was sighing and pushing his hips up to meet Marco's downward strokes soon enough. Marco hummed, visible eye reflecting something soft and happy, then nudged at Jean's thigh with his knee.

They shifted, Jean letting his legs fall open so Marco could settle between them.

“I've got that meeting with those farmers tomorrow.” He wasn't sure if he was reminding or warning or just talking for the sake of it. Maybe complaining because he was going to have to head out of the canyon and towards the flat lands on horseback and it was going to be terrible.

“Won't keep you up long.” Marco leaned down until their lips were brushing over each other. His accent was thicker than it usually was, something Jean only got to hear late at night or when Marco was on the brink of losing control. “Sides, you're gonna hate me again tomorrow so I gotta take advantage while you’re still fucked out.”

Jean reached up to brush back the damp strands of Marco's hair, exposing the dead eye. He felt the way Marco's fingers twitched around him before resuming their almost lazy touches.

“I don't hate you.”

Marco huffed out a laugh then turned his head to press a kiss to Jean's hand. “Well that's very sweet of you to say darlin', but how 'bout you show me instead?”

He briefly considered kicking the brunette before deciding he was too tired to bother. “I'm going to be sore.”

It wasn't a complaint. Yet. In the morning he knew he'd find the ache and burn less satisfying and more annoying than he did now.

Marco smiled, somehow both apologetic and smug. “Don't worry, not gonna make it worse. I just...wanna taste you. Let me do all the work.”

Jean's eyebrow went up as a shiver ran up his spine; seriously, the shit that came out of Marco's mouth sometimes was unreal.

Marco kissed him, nipped at his bottom lip and licked into his mouth. It was quick, over in a moment, and then Marco was winking and snaking down his body. Jean watched through hooded eyes, licking his lips and wondering faintly at the taste of copper in Marco's mouth.

Then Marco's mouth was on him, sucking and swallowing around him while fingers busied themselves inside, carefully creating sparks of pleasure through the soreness, and Jean forgot all about it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many things I want to say to explain why and what but, honestly, what can I say except: Thanks for sitting through my filth and I apologize for what is probably shoddy editing. So many words guise. So many


End file.
